


First Time Buyer

by itsdarkinhere



Series: Trashtober 2020 [8]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Auction, Dark Jesse McCree, F/M, First Time, Master/Slave, Physical Abuse, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Sexual Abuse, Vaginal Sex, omnics won the war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:28:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26909665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsdarkinhere/pseuds/itsdarkinhere
Summary: You're purchased at a slave auction by the one and only Jesse McCree. You've already had your freedom taken from you, but McCree plans on taking the only other thing you have left.
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Reader
Series: Trashtober 2020 [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1951207
Comments: 1
Kudos: 76





	First Time Buyer

**Author's Note:**

> Back on my bullshit for Day 8 of Trashtober gacha:  
> 08 | First Time | Jesse McCree | Slave AU
> 
> Can you tell that I love McCree, especially his Blackwatch skin? No? Oh, I see.  
> Please heed the warnings, McCree is McAngry.

The stage lights were blinding. The air was filled with a myriad of different colognes and perfumes, all cut by the sharp and pungent odor of cigar smoke and whiskey. You weren’t sure why they bothered, no matter what they did, it didn’t mask the stench of power cores and machine oil. Despite the heat of the overhead lamps, you couldn’t stop yourself from shivering, having only been given a short shift to wear over your naked body. You were lucky they gave you anything to wear at all, especially after spending 3 days in transit without even a scrap of anything to cover yourself with. While you listened to the voice of the auctioneer bellow loudly across a mostly silent—and faceless—crowd, your heart sunk with the realization that there would be no escape from this.

“And our next item up for sale.” 

A tug has you stumbling, the chains attached to your handcuffs pulled you to the edge of the stage, the end of which was wrapped around the steel fist of your burly omnic auctioneer. You could barely make out the faces of the people in the front row, you were curious but one of the other girls had told you to keep your head down and just do what they told you—or else they were going to hurt you. Bad. The thick steel collar around your throat was a firm reminder of your fate. 

“Untouched merchandise.” The auctioneer says proudly, followed by a chorus of ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’. “But, untrained. If anyone is up for the challenge.” Snickers rippled out across the darkened audience and you couldn’t help but tense, fists and jaw clenching like you were ready for a fight. One of your handler’s many arms nudged you across the shoulder with enough force for you to get the idea. His touch was cold and impersonal against your too hot skin.

You turned around a couple circles, feeling self-conscious when the omnic suddenly stopped you when your back was facing the crowd. He steel palm fell across your ass, a spank that was meant to entice the buyers, but still stung and still made you yelp. While the buyers chuckled, you felt your face grow warm as your eyes fell to the floor and your dirty toes. “Let’s start at 30,000 credits.” The auctioneer continued to poke and prod you. Made you hold out your arms, made you cup your breasts, made you lift your skirt—to your humiliation. It was all very clinical, which was to be expected when the majority of the audience were made of wire and steel instead of skin and bones. You were _merchandise_ , as he had originally put it. 

The price continued to hike up from there and all you could bear to think, as your life had been reduced to a simple number, was how something like this could have happened. How something could have gone so wrong, and how could humans have orchestrated—even hastened—their own demise. You had been lucky to have been bought by an aging omnic when the uprising ended, but, now that you were older, you were certain of the kind of duties your new omnic owner would demand of you. Your stomach twisted at the thought, but you had no time to dwell on it. The auctioneer turned you to face the crowd again, your chains ringing loudly in your ears as the crowd murmured beyond the veil of your perception. You attempted to keep calm, but your skin was slick with sweat and your heart was erratic. Your throat was tight and your knuckles were white. You didn’t want this. You didn’t want this. You didn’t want this.

“50,000 credits.” A voice pierced the darkness and your eyes shifted around the crowd to find the owner. The voice didn't sound synthetic. It sounded like it belonged to a human, it was masculine, rich and languid with a subtle growl to the consonants that was characteristic of a south-western American drawl. Another ripple of murmurs filtered through the crowd, this time curious and energetic.

You think you might have seen the blink of a cigar cherry, winking at you, all the way in the back of the room, but you couldn’t be sure. The auctioneer gathered up your chains and handed you off to another handler, saying “Sold. To Number 6. For 50,000 credits.”

“Thank you, kindly.” You heard the man say as you were dragged off the stage, replaced by another unfortunate girl. Quickly, your eyes scanned the crowd, but you couldn’t see who the owner of the voice was. Your owner—so to speak. But, your pulse quickened at the thought of being bought by another human, could this mean that you were saved? Could he possibly have infiltrated the masses to liberate you? You didn’t dare hope, but your heart swelled with the thought of finally being free again. Maybe you could even go find the rest of your family, you hoped that they were still alive, you’ve lost track of them after the uprising. 

Down a course of winding hallways, you were led to the upper levels of the saloon. Wood here smelled much newer than the theater area down below, but the stench of machine oil permeated all of it. Your new handler, a lithe omnic with a single red ocular installation, brought you to stand before door number 6, where she knocked. “Mr. McCree, your purchase has arrived.” 

You swallow thickly, loud enough to hear your throat click, as the door to the room was slowly pulled open. A darkly dressed, human man, answered the door. Sun-tanned skin, dark beard and hair, with his full lips wrapped around a lit cigar. “Much appreciated.” He moved out of the way, metal spurs ringing loudly in the silent hallway—with only the muffled voice of the auctioneer barely audible from downstairs. The smoke rose around him like a halo as his dark ominous eyes landed on you, when they slowly crinkled around the corners in a sinister smile you felt your blood grow cold. Taking an unconscious step back, your omnic handler was there to jerk your forward. She handed your chains to this man, McCree, before excusing herself. 

“Enjoy your purchase, sir.” 

“Oh, I intend to.” He says in the same slow cadence he’s been using this entire time. “Why don’t you come in, darlin’? We can get to know each other.” His large hand lands on your shoulder, making you jump. You stared up at him through your lashes, mouth opening and closing as you tried to get your words out. His hands were warm, unlike the omnics, but that only proved to make you even more nervous. A spark of impatience flashed through his eyes as he maneuvered the cigar from one side of his mouth to the other. He grabbed you by the steel collar, “I said, get in here.” He grumbled, and yanked you through the door by your neck.

You stumbled into the room and heard the door slam. McCree’s rented room was small, you could see a bed, a desk, a window with the curtains drawn, and a wardrobe where a cowboy hat and holster hung off the pointed crown of it. McCree moved around you in slow measured steps, and all you could hear were the ringing of his spurs and his heavy footsteps. “Auctioneer said you’re a virgin, s’that true, sweetheart?” He asked, taking a lazy puff off his cigar. 

You stared at the large gun in his holster, then you looked at the covered window. You’ve never plotted escape before, but you had misjudged the man. You had thought he would be willing to help you, a fellow human, but you could only guess that he was one of the few humans who profited off the omnic uprising. Suddenly, a large hand reached out and slapped you across the face, whipping your head to the side. You gasped and stumbled, thrown by the force of his strike. “I don’t much like repeating myself.” McCree hissed through his teeth, pulling his cigar from his lips and leaning down to stare directly into your eyes. Smoke curled from out of his mouth like a demon’s exhale, and you trembled in his presence.

You stared back with a bewildered look, the skin on your cheek already feeling red and tight. You knew you were going to bruise. “S-sorry, Master.” You bite your trembling lower lip, “It’s true.” 

He hums with approval, “Well, then, get on that bed and let’s get a good look at you.” He directs you with two fingers, the ashes falling from the bright tip of his cigar. You waver a little, your face still stinging, as you slowly shuffle over to the edge of the bed. He approaches you slowly, hands going for the chain keeping your wrists connected. You realize how large he was compared to you. His arms alone were twice the size of yours and his chest looked broad underneath the black body armor. He had on short sleeves and you could see skin that’s gone through the wringer—knife and bullet scars, burns and a faded tattoo of a skull with wings on his thick forearm. “Can I trust you to not try and escape if I take this off?” He asked, leaning over you again, threateningly. You could feel his warm breath on your face, could smell the sweet scent of rolled cigar leaves and bitter whiskey. 

You nod, but he takes the entire half of your face in one hand and makes you look at him. 

“Didn’t quite catch that, darlin’.” He clicks his tongue, dark eyes narrowing. 

“Yes, Master.” You whisper fearfully. 

He gives your cheek a patronizing pat, making you wince as his rough palm brushes against bruised skin. “Atta, girl.” He pressed his thumb to the reader locking your bindings together and the thing clicks. Your shackles remain but the chain and your lead fall heavily onto the ground. McCree reached over and hooked his fingers under your collar, reeling you in. “Now take off your clothes.” He demands, pulling the chair from the desk so he could sit on it, backwards. “I don’t like to be kept waitin’.” 

You try to not look at him, and instead look toward the ground. “But…” You swallow, trying to work up the nerve. “But, you’re...Human…” You manage to whisper. “You’re human, why would you... Why would you do this?” Your lips twist into a frown, trembling, as tears gather in your eyes.

McCree is silent for a long moment, you hear him exhale as the wood creaks under his weight. He set his cigar in the steel ashtray on the desk, then stood up from his seat. “Well, darlin’...” He walks the short couple steps to stand before you and you flinch away from him, but his calm demeanor melts as one large hand shoots out and grips you by the hair. “Some of us are just above the rules.” He growled, before throwing you easily onto the bed. You gasped and bounced, trying to scramble away, but he’s already anticipated your moves. His large hands wind into the fabric of your shift and with a simple twist he has honed enough muscle to tear easily through the seams as you struggle against him. 

“No! Stop!” You screamed, raising your hands in an attempt to fight him off with your small fists. 

His chuckle sounded like a low rumble of thunder. “I see what they mean now, by ‘untrained’.” He grabbed your wrists to keep you from flailing about as he presses his knee to your belly, pushing with enough force to make you want to vomit. “But, we’ll get you broken in nice and easy. You won’t be a virgin for long, sweetheart.” 

“No!” You wailed and started to struggle anew, despite the pressure of his knee on you. You manage to get a couple blows on his shoulder and chest, but he only smiled at your frail attempts.

“Well, ain’t you a little wild cat.” He gathered your wrists into one hand, which allows him to use his other to explore your body freely. You grunt and groan, still trying to fight his hold, but tears of frustration fall from your eyes when you realize that it’s all hopeless. He’s too big and too strong for you to take on like this. McCree’s calloused touch takes in every inch of you. He measures the fullness of your tits in his palm, giving each a squeeze and a pinch. He moved his knees to rest it between your legs, so that he could see you fully, stretched out for him, but you do your best to twist out of his grasp. 

He sucked a loud breath through his teeth and turned you over easily, before delivering three strong and painful spanks to your backside. You screamed and thrashed, but he placed a thick forearm on the back of your head and kept you in place. He gave your ass three more cracks for good measure and heat pooled through you with a stinging vengeance. “Struggling only makes me harder, girl. Do it some more and see how hard I fuck you.” He blanketed you with his larger body and whispered into your ear. You shook beneath him. “Was gonna make your first time enjoyable, but you got me all fired up now.” He said, maneuvering so that he could press his thick erection against your abused bottom. The scratch of his pants was hell on your ass, but you couldn’t get over how big he felt against you. 

“Please, Master… Please, no.” You sobbed as he lazily dry humped you from behind.

McCree groaned out a breathy chuckle. “I think I like hearing you beg me like that. Keep it up, sweetheart.” He leaned back just enough to get his pants open. You could hear his large belt buckle clatter and the growl of his zipper being pulled down. You arched your back, trying to get away, or absently cried out for anyone to save you. McCree just laughed as he maintained his forearm on your neck, on the edge of snapping it if he applied just a little more pressure. “Don’t tense up, now.” He murmured, “Or do…” 

You suddenly felt something wet and bulbous press up against your unprepared hole. “No, don’t! Master, please don’t!” You kicked out, but couldn’t move an inch, his wide body was situated between your legs and you were just flailing at this point. He chuckled darkly and dragged the thick flared head along your slit, groaning into your ear telling you how good you felt. You felt your cunt flutter at the sound of his guttural voice, but couldn’t stop the fear gripping your heart or the tears clouding your eyes. “Please…” You said one more time, just as he stopped rubbing himself against you and started to push in. 

You whined as your toes curled, a stinging pain hitting you right in the gut as you felt yourself being spread wide around his thick cock. He just kept pushing in, splitting you wider and wider, until you were screaming because the entirety of your lower body felt like it was on fire. You’re not sure if you tore or not, but you knew the exact moment he broke through your maidenhead. You cried out even louder as you jerked against his grasp, adrenalin shooting through your spine. But he held you down and rocked into you with a vicious jab that pierced your right to the core. You couldn’t believe it, after all this time, your virginity was robbed from you so easily, with a single motion. Blindly, you struggle, but his hold was firm. “Whoa, easy.” He laughed. Your pussy clenched tightly around the length, but the pain was blistering and sharp as it felt like he just continued to work his dick into you. You arched your back and gripped the sheets beneath you as you bared down, panting heavily. “Just like that, sweetheart. God, you’re taking me so well. So fucking tight.” Finally, it feels like he’s bottomed out. The press of his hips to your ass was flush and the tip of his cock bumped up against your cervix painfully. You’ve never felt so full in your entire life, stretched to the limit, pierced by the impossible girth of this man’s cock. 

“M-Master...Please…Take it out…It hurts.” You whimpered. Except, no matter what you said, McCree ignored you. He hauled you onto all fours and took your hips in his large hands, in a bruisingly harsh hold. There was no time for you to catch your breath, because he started to move. Pain rushed through your body, you gritted your teeth, felt your nipples stiffen, while your body tensed and reared up; you reached back and scratched deep grooves into the back of his hands, but he only hissed and angled his hips, pulling out and slamming back into you. You scream, deep and guttural, your cunt walls twitched around him and you let out the most gut-wrenching howl; too dry to comfortably take him. 

“Now, now, darlin’, settle down.” He pulled you against his solid chest, armor biting into your naked back, and reached between your legs. His fingers circle your clit, furiously rubbing the small nub with just enough pressure to turn your scream into a moan as he pumps his cock in and out of you. “You’ll learn to love it.” Your whole body bucked against him, the drag was biting at your already frayed nerves. Gradually, you started to move with him when he thrusts turned more and more rhythmic to his rubbing. His grunts came out in gutted, cut-off breaths, but as he worked his fingers on your clit, the wetter you became. 

When you gasped loudly and your whole body seized up, he chuckled his hand snaking up from around your waist to grab your tits roughly. A strange jolt ran through your body, turned the pain into a strange spark of pleasure that settled in the pit of your belly and started to take root. He pounds relentlessly into you when you finally start to grow wet, to ease the way. 

McCree breathed loudly through his nose as he pulled you to him and leered, his fingers curled around the edge of your collar and his hips slapped against your ass. “Hope you’re ready for my cum darlin’.”


End file.
